Mauricio Betancourt

I write when I dream the stories

Mauricio Betancourt

Mauricio Betancourt
Cali, Colombia
February 06
Colombian journalist (37). Gay advocator and social worker. I like people and believe people like me. I am as honest and transparent as I can be and like to meet people around the world. I´ve been away from OS for a while but I intent to keep writing and reading of course as it is the only thing that really awakes my heart... Hugs from Colombia and much love

Mauricio Betancourt's Links

JANUARY 21, 2011 11:11AM

Little Frail Porcelain Kid X

Rate: 19 Flag

san-sebastianI´m seated in front of the computer facing a new dilemma; how to write this post and how to take this step that will disclose a part of my life that will help those following these installments understand my psyche. Understand why I am this dramatic and why does my heart need to decant the black blood and snatch some oxygen from the world.

                I wrote the prior installment thinking about those first five or six years of my life living with Thomas,  sharing all his worldly blessings. I was totally and absolutely grateful for all that he was giving me. Expensive clothes, watches, shoes, cars, travels, dinners...everything was beyond counting nickels, he didn´t care about the price in things, he just asked for anything he wanted, even when we were traveling the world.

elmartirioI remember one night in France, we were staying at the Concorde La Fayette   in Paris. We were having dinner at their restaurant chatting and enjoying new flavors, new textures, new lovely smells (for me, he was sophisticated enough to know all about the French cuisine), then right in the middle of our conversation he got a call. The waiter came to his ear and asked him to take a phone call, he gave me a skeptical look  got up and went to the bar.     

             Then, the waiter came and handled me a rolled-in white fabric-serviette and before living he asked me to unroll it right away and give it back.  I did. I wish I didn´t though. 

"I wish I could be there enjoying your company. I´m jealous of him"

                This is what was written in the napkin. Those words plunged into my brain and took away my concentration. All the attention I was supposed to give to my partner was now focused on those words.

              Minutes later Thomas came back, sat next to me and with a big smile came close and kissed me in the cheek. He never gave it a second thought when it came to show his love for me. He told me that the phone call was the manager of the hotel asking him if it was possible to change us to another room due to some kind of problems they were having with the heaters. He agreed and now they were placing us in another floor. It was January of 2000. We received the New Year in Madrid and went to Paris after a few days in Spain.

transverberacion-1984He noticed, right away, that I was pensive. He was always paying attention to my face, reading my gestures, even my blinks. He knew my face by heart. 

Is everything all right?

Yes, everything is fine. Perfect. This food is amazing.  I´ve never had it.

Is everything all right?

Yes, why are you asking me that again? Don´t look at me like that Amor, I´m all right. Really.

          He smiled and ate a mushroom. Years after I understood that his smile wasn´t a smile of acceptance, it was a smile of evil. He knew what was about to happen.

         We kept drinking white wine, I stopped when feeling dizzy. He asked the hostess about our new room and got a positive answer, we were ready to go upstairs and get in bed. I remember he asked me to take the last sip on his glass, put his arm around me and we both waited for the elevator. I looked back to the bar looking for someone who might be watching us leaving... I wasn´t able to meet anyone´s eyes. The elevator came, we stepped in and a few minutes later we were in our room. Then... I don´t remember anything.

            I woke up in the morning. He was sleeping next to me and when he felt me moving around the bed he said:

Good morning baby. Come here. Don´t get up just yet. Let´s sleep a couple more hours. Come on.

          I was feeling tired and figured it was due to the wine the night before so I went back to sleep. We woke up two hours later. He woke me up, sked me to join him in the shower. We washed each other with the love that was familiar between us. That love that made us feel comfortable. That love that made me feel so safe. He was smiling and kissing me all the time. My waist was sore.

You are my little Latino ass. You know? I like it when men here look at you wanting to fuck that little tushie of yours. I´m telling you.. they want you. But they can´t have you. Your ass is mine. 

          I was used to hear him saying those things so I didn´t really pay attention to the real meaning. Those things said back in Colombia didn´t mean anything (by then). If I only knew what those words meant  back then right there.

  David_manzurWe got ready to go out and see the city, well, he got ready first and went downstairs before I did.  He said he was going to the restaurant to get some sandwiches so we can have a picnic in the park.... he left the room and minutes later the phone rang. I picked it up and...

I had the most amazing night. I was gentle.. I hope I was. 

        Then the call cut off... I felt electricity coming up and down my spine, I scanned my whole body with my mind focusing in any pain or any....sore....

         Damn it... my waist... my.....

         I got worried. I run into the restroom and got naked. I touched my ass and it stung. The room got small, really small. My mind was flying wild trying to remember what happened the night before. I couldn´t remember anything. My heart was racing. I was confused. I didn´t know what to think or what to feel. No wait... I did know what I was feeling... my butt was hurting.

            I went downstairs and asked Thomas to go up to the room with me, he tried not to but I insisted. He came back with me and I told him about the phone call and what was happening with my body.

Don´t mind that... maybe is a fucking crazy staying here or maybe not... don´t pay attention to crazy phone calls.

            I tried to insist on the subject and then I met a person I have never imagined could exist nor living with me under the same roof. His face changed. His eyes got darker. His mouth changed its shape, pursed. He came for my throat and before I could do anything he pushed me against the wall and made himself very clear.

You will do whatever I tell you to do. I can leave you here in this country but I won´t leave you in the streets I will sell you to a whore house and they will never let you go. Or, you can keep your mouth shut and let me tell you what you are going to do from now on

            The little paradise turned into hell. He explained that it was an opportunity he couldn´t reject. A man offered him a lot of money to have sex with me and when he turned the guy down he said to Thomas:

Your boy doesn´t need to know. Give him this, in his drink before bedtime and give me a call I will be in your room five minutes later. You can take part of the fun or you can just close the door and look the other way. I promise he won´t find out

parejaThomas told me that he wasn´t going to accept the offer. But the man kept looking at him in the eye and got him convinced. The man gave him sachets of scopolamine which he gave me when I drank the last sip of his drink the night before.

               He explained that he was going to give me the money, all of it. But he could not stop for he had promised the man another session with me. The man gave him more money for that second night and told him that he had proof of Thomas dealing with prostitution in a country that wasn´t his and that was a huge felony in France. Thomas was really nervous and erratic.
You are going to be ok with this new deal. You are going to please the fucker and play the drugged roll. If you fuck this up I swear I will leave you here. I will sell you to a pimp and they will force you to give up your ass to any pig who wants it
                 I don´t know what was I thinking. My self steem was gone I guess. I didn´t argue. I didn´t refuse I just got mute. I looked him in the eye and said:
I don´t need to play the drugged roll. Just give me the fucking drug and don´t tell me anything else. Don´t talk to me anymore. Just give me the drug and enjoy your money
              I felt my face burning. My eyes were inside his. He smiled nervously and handled me the tiny sachet. I looked at it. I looked at him. Gave the sachet back and got out the room but before leaving to the elevator I said:
Are we still going to have our picnic in the park?
pareja2I do not know why I reacted that way... I should have reacted violently, demanding him to respect me. He was supposed to protect me and be my spouse, my partner. Partners don´t do that. 
             I kept losing my memory of some nights in my life. Not too many. But it happened several times for more than five years. Finally I got too old. I turned 28 and he was almost 53. He talked to me one morning and said that he´d met a 16 year old boy with an amazing beauty. Just like I was when I was 17 or 18. He asked me to move out the house. He took everything and left me with nothing but my professional career and my self I guess.
            Now that I am almost 36 years old he is 61 diabetic, they cut off three of his toes due to his medical condition, his kidneys don´t work and he is on dialysis twice a week. He lives alone. He goes to the doctor by him self. He still has a lot of money but he doesn´t have a life. At least not the one he gave me; the one I took the day I left his house.
Continue to

By Mauricio Betancourt 2011©

 Prior Installments:

Little Frail Porcelain Kid

Little Frail Porcelain Kid II

Little Frail Porcelain Kid III

Little Frail Porcelain Kid IV

Little Frail Porcelain Kid V

 Little Frail Porcelain Kid VI

Little Frail Porcelain Kid VII

Little Frail Porcelain Kid VIII

Little Frail Porcelain Kid IX



Your tags:


Enter the amount, and click "Tip" to submit!
Recipient's email address:
Personal message (optional):

Your email address:


Type your comment below:
Wow. sad story. Hope it is fiction.
Dark tale made darker by its horrific truth in your life, Mauricio. I want to rewrite your life and wish desperately that I could. Thanks for honoring us with your writing and sharing your truth with us. R
decant the black blood and snatch some oxygen from the world~
Joder, Mauricio, que fuerte.
Eres el mero ejemplo de lo que es un sobreviviente. Y lo eres con una gracia unica y brillante. Tu si, tienes vida, sobra. Y tu manera de aprovechla es impresionante y inspira una 'onda bien rica, bien buena. And that's a hell of a lot more than most people can claim. Dale, pues. Adelante~
This was very hard to read. There is so much betrayal in the world. Very sad.
From time to time he´d introduce me to one of his "friends" I knew right in that second that that night I was going to lose my memory. But still didn´t do anything about it. He´d offer me a drink while his friend was still in the house and everytime I looked him in the eye and drank the damn thing....
I sometimes take the bus and stop by his house. I don´t go to visit him. I just stay in the corner and I see him in the backyard. Seated there all alone with his nurse. I can´t hate him though. I´ve asked my self why I don´t hate him and I can´t find the answer. I just don´t hate him.
Mauricio, I am sorry you experienced this horror...I am glad you got away from that....this is beautifully expressed...xox
I honestly don't know how you have survived the things you've had to endure. You have a true survivor's spirit, Mauro.

I love the way this sentence came out: "Understand why I am this dramatic and why does my heart need to decant the black blood and snatch some oxygen from the world."

Feel my arm around your shoulder, mijo.

Just when you think things will get better they do not.
I am glad you are your own person now. rated with hugs
What a bastard to do that. He is the one who lost out. He is the one dying by himself. He can't take his money with him, or his memories!
Very hard to think he would treat you that way, and hard to read about. I am glad it is in the past.
My friend, as part of survival, humans will do almost anything. You stayed out of love and survival. But when you left, you kept your humanity and regained your strength and dignity. Blessings, Mauricio.
@Sheba: Thank you... I wish it was fiction.. I have to confess that I tend to write it with drama but all the facts are intact...
@A Persistent Muse: Thank you for being here... and thank you for wanting to rewrite my life... maybe someday you can interview me...
@Catch-22: Hola.. pequeña compañera hispanoparlante.... tus palabras son fabulosas gracias... pero quiero permanecer lo más humilde que me sea posible.. en mis años de juventud cometí muchos errores por mi ego... ahora debo seguir trabajando fuerte para lograr cumplir mis sueños. Gracias de nuevo por tus palabras .. hermosas.
@Sheila: Betrayal is in the human nature... I think is part of our nature
@Robin: hey there you sexy... do not be sorry for what happened so many years ago... thank you for being this sweet... we humans are predators and these things happen all the time everywhere...
@Lezlie: yea I can feel that hug.. and I really need it.. thank you Mrs L.. I love you and thank you for calling me mijo--- I love it
@Linda: I have to confess that everytime I want to write another chapter I think about how to remember thigs so I can write them in a very dramatic way but... all those things happened.. they were real and yes it gets better -- in time....
@ScanMan: My friend he knows that.. he is living it ... poor old man he is
@Sophie: When money gets in one´s way.. one can do anything.. even blurred our selves....
@Owl: Thank you... thank you very much for the blessings... I need all of them
Mauricio-the worst sin is using someone for your own gratification while denying their humanity. So sad. It makes my blood run cold that someone would do that to you. It makes me mad, really mad. You are such a fine person.
Dear Mauro: Your writing is sincere and passionate, as is your life which has been filled with so much pain. I don't see you being "dramatic" when you write your story, and I'm honored that you share it with us. It is poignant, heart wrenching, but that has been your reality. I hope writing helps you "decant the black blood" from your heart, and fill it with pure oxygen.

You probably don't hate Thomas, because indifference is stronger and more empowering. If it helps, please continue writing, my friend.
I think you are the bravest soul for opening your vulnerability to give us this story of your love.
You are a special and precious person, thank you so much for sharing the pain in your life. Your story is a true gift.
rated with love
Truly traumatic. I hope that your writing about this exculpates your pain somewhat.
Are these porcelain pieces part of the book you're writing? It would make a compelling book.

Do you think - before he dies - you'll visit him and talk with him? In your shoes I would like to, but probably couldn't bring myself to do so.

I hope you find love again, and this time as true partnership.
I almost skipped reading this installment because I am so far behind in the series. I'm glad I read it. I don't feel the sense of continuity was broken at all. This portrays a horribly, dark experience.